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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665834">A Blessing I Ain't Tryna Lose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontcallmebree/pseuds/dontcallmebree'>dontcallmebree</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Do The Things You Never Showed Nobody [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Mob, Bearded Steve Rogers, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mob Boss Steve Rogers, Modern Bucky Barnes, Personal Assistant Bucky Barnes, Shrunkyclunks, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, sorta Slice of Life or timestamps</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:48:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,547</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665834</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontcallmebree/pseuds/dontcallmebree</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after his first anniversary with one Steve Rogers, Bucky’s going to pilates with Clint Barton, gaining family members left and right, and getting increasingly entangled with the Brooklyn Irish. He’s just trying to keep up.</p>
<p>Steve has too many faces to count, and even the one he feels most like himself in, sometimes does him more harm than good. At least Bucky can always see through his masks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Do The Things You Never Showed Nobody [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>328</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This sequel is set six months after the end of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27042604"><em>Up Close and Personal</em></a>, which if you haven’t read, go check that out! I wouldn’t say this one can stand on its own. </p>
<p>Thanks everyone who has given this series a read so far, and for giving <em>A Blessing I Ain’t Tryna Lose</em> a shot! I just really love exploring these characters and the dynamics in this world that I had to share more. </p>
<p>Meraki_Moli is also a beta reader on this story, and I have to say, she really makes all of these chapters better than the mess they usually are in my hands.</p>
<p>So here’s the continuation of my somewhat self-indulgent Shrunkyclunks Mob AU.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve’s been staring. Well, glaring is more like it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky doesn’t notice for a whole ten minutes of this showdown, but he does eventually, and follows Steve’s line of sight over to Clint. Bucky’s eyes pinball between the two before nestling further into the space under Steve’s arm, and whispering close to his ear, “What’s wrong? You’re thirty seconds away from burning a hole in Clint’s forehead.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmm, then I’m right on track,” he mutters, eyes not leaving his teammate’s. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky shoots him a frown and a warning, “Steve.” The man’s face stays stormy, and he only barely grunts a response. Bucky finally turns his attention to Clint and immediately realizes what’s got Steve oozing displeasure and particularly handsy. He rolls his eyes and gives a quick, sharp whistle. “Clint, my eyes are up here, buddy.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint snaps out of it and looks up from where he was all but leering at Bucky’s legs. “Man, you <em>do</em> have really nice legs.” Bucky tightens his hold on Steve before the man can pounce. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The little tiff over physical attributes started almost a year ago, and Clint never stopped trying to get the edge on Bucky. The guy <em>really</em> cares about his form. “Thank you, I do a lot of pilates.” A glance at his boyfriend shows the glower and clenched jaw firmly in place, though he can’t blame him as Clint’s <em>still</em> eyeing him rather suggestively.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pilates, huh?” He looks down to his own admittedly also very well sculpted thighs. “Maybe I should try that. You go to a class or something? Can you recommend me one?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky blinks in surprise simply because this wasn’t where he thought the conversation was going, but catches up quickly. “Uh, no. I always meant to check out a place, but I just do it at home.” Steve seems to have cooled down a fraction after realizing Clint has more interest in his exercise routine than its results; the clutches he’s got on Bucky now more snug than confrontational. Only Steve can make cuddling so aggressive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint’s eyes light up. “Hey, wanna go together?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And that’s how Bucky starts going to weekly pilates classes with Clint Barton. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve harrumphs at their plans but Bucky swats at him for the clear protest. “No one’s even asked you to come, Steve. You’re not invited.” He might tease as if Steve’s objection has anything to do with not wanting to be dragged along, but he knows it doesn’t at all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve likes to hang around when Bucky does it at home, indulging in the view. The post-workout <em>workout</em> is a great bonus - and the subsequent shower sex. Bucky always comes out of those mornings wrung out and fairly sure he’s on the path to looking as close to a greek god as Steve does, from the sheer soreness of his muscles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hah!” Scott slams a minuscule tool of some kind onto his workbench, and then brandishes the seemingly fixed Ant-Man contraption. It might have been more impressive if any one of them knew what he’d done. The guy still won’t tell them any details on account of intellectual property, which bogles Tony’s mind but earns Bruce’s respect. Bucky’s more concerned that he <em>chose</em> the call sign Ant-Man. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony grumbles indistinctly under his breath at the opposite work space, hurriedly tinkering with everyone’s alarms. “Goddamnit,” he sighs wearily, closing up the last of the devices. Scott’s sporting a smug grin, hands clasped together like he’s actually won something and not a pride-based race on who can repair their respective equipment faster. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Scott starts packing away his things, whistling a joyful tune just to wind Tony up, and Bucky can see Steve pursing his lips to tamp down on the amused smile that’s fighting to make itself known.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve’d warmed up to Scott quickly, to the latter’s relief. He’s a damn good thief, and he brings in the most profitable pieces they can fence. Money talks, as they say. Not that Steve would let anything slide if he got paid enough - he isn’t what people would call forgiving. But Scott’s jobs, which is what’s truly appreciated, really smoothed things over. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It sure helps that Scott likes to tease Tony, pulling a chuckle or two out of the usually quiet Captain Rogers. “How did you do that so fast?” Tony shakes his head in disbelief, as he picks up the alarms and distributes them to their owners. Steve’s is in a pleasant dark blue, with a thin white line around the sides.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Practice,” Scott shrugs. It’s true, the Ant-Man equipment takes a lot of regular maintenance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony returns to his seat and fiddles with one of his doodads, and they all know what he’s going to say as soon as he opens his mouth. “I don’t know why you won’t come work with me. You’d be perfect for my R&amp;D department.” Scott groans, because he’s had to turn down this exact offer countless times. “The pay and benefit are unrivaled, there’s no way you get anything close to it doing what you do now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Scott had claimed that he does odd repair jobs around the neighborhood, with a steady stream of customers. It’s not like he can reveal his <em>real</em> job working for the Roshars as a thief. “Enough, Tony.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony throws his hands up in the air, looking just as tired of the spiel as Scott does, but carrying on anyway. “That’s a college fund for your kid, in the bank-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t,” Scott cuts him off with a sharp look. “I know what’s best for my daughter, don’t you <em>even suggest</em>-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whoa, okay,” Bruce jumps in. “Tony’s not suggesting anything.” He turns a baleful look on his long time friend, with a stern, “Scott isn’t interested in the job. He’s made that very clear.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony turns away, eyes glued to the nearest chrome invention of his. “I just want to help,” he says quietly. Bucky starts packing up when he sees Steve putting on his jacket, dutifully ignoring the sudden tension in the room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, Tony,” Scott allows. “But I don’t need it.” Bucky knows how much he loves his real job, not only the execution but the pieces he gets to see and deal with in person. He’s caught him and Steve gushing over one art piece or another that he’s just brought in countless times now that Scott’s in town more often. Bucky always slowly backs out of the room on those occasions, for fear of death by boredom. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve, surprisingly, is the one to change the subject. He’s been more engaged since Scott’s joined the team, though not by much. Bucky thinks it’s that he’s more relaxed with a long time Roshar around, no matter how contentious Scott’s entrance to the scene was. Steve’s also found himself reluctantly liking the guy. “Isn’t your ex dropping Cassie off here today?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh!” Tony quickly perks up. “We get to meet her?” He looks so giddy at the news that Bucky wonders if he and Pepper have plans to have children of their own. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Scott’s features turn soft at the mention of his little girl. “Yeah, Maggie doesn’t have time to go all the way to my place. Hope that’s okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pft,” Tony waves away his concern. “Of course, I can’t wait to meet her! I think I have some experimental kid’s toys somewhere. She can bring them home and report back.” Before Scott can protest - though Bucky’s not sure he would want to - Tony’s already rummaging through one of the shelves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, I’ll see you guys.” Steve makes to leave, and everyone’s heads whip around in surprise. Even after all this time, they never see Steve’s sudden departures coming. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Natasha tosses her alarm in the air and catches it over and over, blowing a bright, pink bubble gum until it breaks with a loud pop. “You’re not sticking around to meet Cassie?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve met her before,” Steve shrugs. There’s no easy way to ask a kid to lie about not knowing Steve from her occasional visits to the house. “We ran into each other a while back,” he motions at Scott.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before they can even leave the work room, a thundering of tiny steps ring through the corridor, and a 4-feet-tall blonde hurricane rushes towards her father. Maggie Lang sedately follows, lugging a duffel bag and her daughter’s backpack. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Scott lets out an exaggerated <em>oomph</em> when the two collide, and picks her up easily onto his hip. “Hi, Cassie. I missed you,” he kisses her forehead. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I miss you too, daddy.” She wiggles around until she’s let down, but keeps ahold of her father’s hand. “We went on a field trip to the museum today,” she shares, all bright eyes and giddy excitement. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, peanut. I remember.” He ruffles her hair, then promptly smoothes it down. “Come meet daddy’s friends.” A quick introduction between the rest of the Avengers and the two newcomers ensues, until they get to Steve, and Cassie breaks away from Scott to leap up into his arms. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve’s reflexes ensure her safety, but both her parents let out startled yelps. “Jesus, kid, be careful,” Steve scolds, but all it gets out of the girl is a delighted giggle. “You’re gonna give your Ma a heart attack.” Steve’s eyes flick over to Maggie, who’s stiffly handing over the bags to Scott, and keeping a wary eye on him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is why leaving before the hand off would have been better. They’ve gathered enough from Scott that his ex-wife isn’t a fan of his involvement with the Roshars, especially with Cassie in the mix. Her unease with Steve is clear, seemingly a second away from ripping her child out of his embrace. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve sighs softly and puts her down with a faint protest from Cassie. “I went to the museum and they had giant whale bones, just like you told me about!” She tugs at his arm as if to drag him closer to her father, so she can tell her story with the appropriate audience. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s great, Cassie, but I have to go.” Her face falls the slightest bit, but Steve doesn’t let it sway him. “Have a great week with your dad, okay? Maybe I’ll see you next time.” It’s best to leave them to it. Bucky knows Steve finds no pleasure in making Maggie uncomfortable with his presence. Cassie pouts, but lets it go quickly, offering her cheek with an expectant look. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A soft smile graces Steve’s face, and he gives her a quick peck on the cheek, then ushers her back to Scott. “Bye, Cassie.” He waves a goodbye to the Avengers, all of whom are eyeing him, not with suspicion, but something odd nonetheless, and a quick friendly nod to Maggie.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wraps an arm around Bucky as they walk over to the elevator, the sounds of the Langs chatting with everyone else floating out of the work room. Steve’s face betrays nothing, but Bucky kisses his jaw to make him feel better anyway. He usually gets to indulge in a Cassie story or two whenever she visits the house with Scott. Bucky had been surprised to see how great Steve is with kids, and he always looks so happy to spend time with the six year old. Being seen as dangerous to someone you care about must get you down, no matter the circumstances.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, how about a peach pie for good behavior at an Avengers meeting?” Bucky offers, hoping to lift Steve’s spirits. There’s nothing like deli pie to cheer his boyfriend up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve laughs half-heartedly, quirking an eyebrow. “Just one?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky narrows his eyes playfully, as they step into the elevator. “Hmm, we’ll see how you do on the way there. You gotta work for it. What, you think peach pies grow on trees?” Steve opens his mouth for a retort, but Bucky shuts him up with a kiss before the guy can give a smart ass remark. “Ssh, be good.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve’s got an amused look in his eyes like he’s just humoring Bucky all the way to the car, but at least he refrains from saying anything about peaches and trees.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>◆</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Getting woken up by the doorbell might be a normal occurrence in some people’s lives. Maybe it’s a neighbor dropping by, or a friend coming over unannounced, or the milkman. Are there still milkmen going door to door? Bucky’s not quite sure. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nevertheless, it’s not a concern to most. It is for the Rogers household. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve shoots up in bed, promptly alert, nothing like the cuddly scruffy man he is every other morning. “Steve,” Bucky whispers, unsure why he thinks he has to keep his voice down. Steve reaches into the bottom drawer of his bedside table for his piece, and motions for Bucky to stay where he is. Like hell, is he staying in bed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d grab another gun but Steve still hasn’t taught him to use one yet, and he isn’t dumb enough to go waving something like that around without proper training. Instead, he keeps at Steve’s heels with the bat they keep in their room, as Steve creeps his way to the front door on silent feet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky has a split second to wonder if he can do enough damage with the bat. He’s never had to use it before, and he was particularly awful at baseball as a child. His only solace is knowing that this is more about brute force and requires less hand eye coordination. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve puts up a hand in a universal sign for stop, and Bucky keeps to the edge of the entryway. He wants to help, but he knows getting out of the way might be exactly how he can do that. He’ll be just around the corner anyway, ready to wreak his own havoc. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve turns on their security screen by the alarm keypad, and as soon as it flickers to life to show a dark haired woman in her late twenties, his shoulders slump in relief. “It’s Maia,” he tells Bucky, quickly flicking on the safety on his handgun. Bucky lowers his bat at the news and joins Steve as he opens the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There, waiting patiently on the doorstep, is Rita Ashe’s daughter. Steve ushers her inside with a harsh, “For fuck’s sake, you scared us half to death. You couldn’t have called first?” He takes her suitcase away, placing it by the coat rack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“At least <em>pretend</em> you’re happy to see me,” she protests good-naturedly, coming in for hugs and kisses. She then takes in the gun and baseball bat, and grimaces in guilt. “Oh, yikes, sorry.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve locks up and then pulls her back into a half hug, kissing the top of her hair and leading the way to the kitchen. “Did you just get in?” Maia lives on the west coast, and Bucky’s only met her once before when she visited last Christmas and spent some time at the house. Despite choosing to not have anything to do with the Roshars and moving away, she and Rita are extremely close, and she seemed to know most of everyone around. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maia slumps onto one of the chairs and stretches, her sweatshirt bunched and rumpled. Her hair’s falling out of its french braid and there’s an unidentifiable stain on her pants. She looks the picture of airplane travel. “Yeah,” she yawns. “Mom’s only in town tomorrow, so I thought I’d pay my favorite Rogers a visit,” she smiles a deceptively sugar sweet grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Much like Steve’s relationship with Rita, while he and Maia are pretty much family, Bucky can’t make heads or tails of whether Steve’s more like a brother or uncle to the younger Ashe. Or grandfather? No, that’d be weird. She was somewhat younger than Steve when he first came home to the Roshars, but at 20 to Steve’s 27, Bucky doubts the relationship they built was <em>grandfatherly</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s early enough that the sun’s only just peeking in through the curtains, but Steve’s bustling around the kitchen to get breakfast ready, so Bucky fires up the coffeemaker for himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, you drink coffee?” he asks Maia, not knowing her well enough, but very familiar with Steve and the guys’ weird non caffeine addict ways. Maia shakes her head, and Bucky can’t help but scrunch his nose in judgement, making her laugh. “Tea?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“With milk, thanks.” He puts together their drinks, taking out a nice mug for Maia that he got at a kitschy boutique just the other day. “I’d say sorry for barging in, but I’m not,” Maia pipes up once Bucky joins her at the table and she’s had a sip of her warm tea. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve haphazardly waves a spatula around in response, then mumbling, “Fuck off,” which is his way of saying she should never apologize. Bucky pushes his choice of caffeine closer, because the adrenaline of thinking someone was at the door for a shoot out must be slowly seeping out of the guy, as he’s turning into his normal sleepy morning Steve.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow, you guys are welcoming,” Maia teases, the corners or her lips curled. From the little time they’ve spent together, Bucky’s known her to be incredibly smart and kind, just like her mother. “Got out the whole arsenal and everything.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve’s gun is still on the counter, a feminine design with floral engravings on the silver surface, and dark brown leather adorning the grip. Bucky eyes his own bat and wonders if he should accessorize it - not that anyone would see. He’s not one for carving wood, but maybe he can take the third grade approach and pull out the bedazzler. It’d at least confuse any intruders for half a second. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just for you, Maia.” Steve returns with the regular mountain of breakfast foods, on mismatched patterned plates. He’s got a small bowl of greek yoghurt ready, an unusual addition, but Bucky quickly realizes it’s for their unexpected guest when he plops it down by her plate. “How long are you staying?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Two weeks,” Maia says between bites, as she continues to scoop over heaps of eggs and fruits. “I just got done wrapping up a big case so I’m taking as long of a vacation as I can.” She’s an in-house lawyer for a textile company - Bucky never realized how often those guys get sued until he met one Maia Ashe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve breaks out into a grin. “That’s amazing! Rita must be ecstatic.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maia shrugs, “You know mom, she acts like I never visit.” Steve quirks an eyebrow. “It’s <em>not true</em>. I’m just busy, I spend all of my days off at home even if I have to fly cross country.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve hums in reluctant agreement, but points out, “You’ve only met Bucky once, and he’s been around for almost two years now.” Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve for dragging him into this, knowing it’s a bad idea to get in the middle of a family thing. His instincts are proven right when they both turn to look at him, expecting him to pick sides.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky opens his mouth and closes it again, wisely keeping his silence. Maia snorts, and Bucky swears the twinkle in her eye is identical to the one Steve often gets. He has to remind himself that the two aren’t actually related, nor did they grow up together. “Come on, Bucky, if you wanna be one of us you gotta start wading in the dirt.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It startles a laugh out of him, and he gives up his impartiality. “It’d be nice to spend more time with you, Maia.” He means it, too. If the only family Steve’s got are the Ashes then he wants to know this equally hardworking and whip smart woman as well as the legendary Rita Ashe. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well,” her tone conveys some weight to whatever she’s gearing up to, catching the interest of both men. Steve even puts down his fork and rests his weight on his forearms, turning all his attention onto the conversation at hand. “I’m gonna be spending some time in the city in a few months.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve waits her out, rather guarded and hesitant, but Maia’s beaming smile abates any worries Bucky has about her maybe losing her job or any other less than happy news. “You wanna elaborate on that?” Steve prompts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maia’s smile grows impossibly broader, and she finally tells them, “I’m having a baby.” Steve sits up in surprise, jaw slack, trying to comprehend the words. “I’m pregnant,” Maia laughs, finally snapping Steve out of his shock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh my god!” Steve’s out of his chair and crossed to the other side of the table in record time, pulling Maia into a hug. He can hear whispers of exclamations in Irish Gaelic that he <em>knows</em> Maia doesn’t understand either, but the woman takes it all in stride, squeezing Steve back with as much enthusiasm. “I- Oh my god, Maia.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>While Steve continues to lose his mind, Bucky rounds the table at a much more reasonable pace and gives his own congratulations. “How far along are you?” The sweatshirt makes it hard to tell, and besides, Bucky thinks it’d be kind of rude to try to make out a bump. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! Yes!” Steve chimes in. “How far along <em>are</em> you?” It occurs to Bucky that there might have never been anyone close to Steve who’s had a baby. He seems so flustered and flushed in equal parts happiness and panic. Even Maia’s giving him a fond but exasperated look, like the same thing is crossing her mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Four months.” She pushes away Steve’s arms, which have been slowly working their way back to engulfing her. “Mom knows, but I didn’t want to say anything to anyone else until the second trimester.” Bucky manages to drag Steve back to his seat and return to his own breakfast, though the guy continues looking at Maia in wonder. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you say you were going to be staying in the city?” Bucky asks, knowing that Steve’s mind must be in the clouds. The hint of concern is slowly dissipating, and he looks to be floating in joy, nibbling on his food and lost in thought. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Maia downs the rest of her tea. “I’ll be here for my maternity leave. It’s just me so I want to stay with mom until I’ll have to go back to work.” She clears her throat, drawing Steve’s attention away from where he was fighting with a piece of bacon. “Steve, this doesn’t mean-,” she runs a hand through her hair, before realizing it’s in a braid and untangling her fingers. “I still don’t want my kid to inherit the business. It’s yours and mom’s, and the next in line is not going to be-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know.” Steve lays a hand on Maia’s, dismissing her fears. “I’m happy you went and got your own life, and I’ll want just the same for your kid. Do you know the sex yet?” Maia shakes her head no. “Both of you are family, and that doesn’t mean pushing something onto you that-,” Steve takes a deep breath, pulling his hand away. “I know, Maia.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maia gives him a genuine if small smile. “Thanks, Steve.” Bucky’s only now wondering if Steve was ever given that chance, to choose a different kind of life, though he doubts he would have taken that path. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I care about you,” Steve says to his plate, voice full of conviction but eyes averted all the same. “I had hoped you knew that.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maia’s gaze follows the way Steve pushes a mushroom around with the tip of his fork, and makes her way over to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I know that, too.” She lets Steve hug her back for a short while before prying his hands away. “I’m really tired, I’m gonna go crash.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, sure, guest room’s ready.” Bucky can’t help but notice Steve’s voice thick with emotion, and he and Maia exchange a look across the table. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wonders how long it took for them to get to where they are now, for him to become <em>her Steve</em> and <em>family</em>, and not just the long talked about looming figure over Brooklyn and the Roshars. Did it take years for her to see him as something more than just a representation of the kind of life she tried to distance herself from? Is it still an effort to keep in mind that he’s the guy who’d put her first in front of most anything, and not the role he has to often step into to take care of this neighborhood?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maia lays a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezes until he looks her in the eye. “You’re gonna be a great uncle, Steve.” That at least brings back the excitement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go get some rest,” he tells her, getting up to take the suitcase over to the guest room, leading the way. Bucky finishes his food and then puts away the dirty dishes, leaving what’s left on the table for Steve. When the man comes back and finishes his breakfast, Bucky slumps onto his seat and proceeds to rest his feet on Steve’s lap in some gesture of comfort.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She knows you love her, Steve,” Bucky pierces the silence, once Steve’s moved onto polishing off the juice. He gives Bucky a solemn smile, wrapping a hand around his ankle and caressing the soft skin. “And she’s right, you’ll be wonderful with baby Ashe.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve huffs a laugh, then uses his foot to drag Bucky’s chair closer so he can wrap himself around the other’s leaner frame. “You will, too. The baby will have both of us.” His stormy blue eyes look into Bucky’s, almost prying, but comforting all the same. “You’ll be an uncle, too."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky leans up to capture Steve’s lips, conveying the care and simmering anticipation. He leaves one last peck on the corner of Steve’s mouth, tasting sweet fruits and syrup. “I like the sound of that.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>◆</p>
<p> </p>
<p>△</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Bucky goes to leave for his third pilates class with Clint in as many weeks, Steve resurfaces from the pile of paperwork he’s been working on alongside Dani and Clara with furrowed brows. “You’re still doing that?” His tone of voice is so incredulous it stops Bucky in his tracks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Am I still doing the workout I’ve always done for as long as you’ve known me? Yes, Steve, I am.” Bucky gives him a cutting look, and Steve clamps his mouth shut. He can’t tell if Bucky’s misunderstanding him purposefully or joking around.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I meant-,” he gets up and follows Bucky to the door, leaving behind the month’s records to the hands of Sam, who’s been eating his way through half a plate of Dani’s fresh from the pan fried mozzarella bites. “The class thing. I thought you were just trying it out.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky turns around to face him, coat on and bag slung over his shoulder. Steve can’t help but slip his arms under the opening and around his waist, the tight leggings and thin t-shirt with cutouts on the sides making him look particularly irresistible. “I was, and I liked it. It’s fun to go with Clint, anyway. I told you we go get milkshakes after.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve still thinks that kind of defeats the purpose, but he’s not looking to get into that argument again. “I guess I didn’t realize you were going to keep it up,” he shrugs, not quite sure why he feels so off-kilter. He knows it’s not a jealousy thing. Bucky has lots of other friends of all genders, and as much as it gets under his skin when Clint looks at Bucky a little too long, he’s not the type to have to know where his boyfriend is and with who at all times. That’d be downright shitty of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky pulls his arms out from under his coat, and buttons it up over a thick grey scarf. “You should come, I know you like Clint just fine. It’d be nice for you to get to know him better, don’t you think?” Steve narrows his eyes, looking for Bucky’s angle. He’s never tried to improve Steve’s relationship with his teammates before, and he doesn’t see why he would now. As if Bucky can sense the muddled suspicion, he shakes his head in fond exasperation and gives him a kiss goodbye. “I just like the guy is all, he’s becoming my friend. I’ll text you when we finish and get there, and you can swing by.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve drags him in for one last kiss, a little longer and more indulgent, before letting him go. He turns the idea over in his mind. He <em>does</em> like Clint, and he doesn’t see why they can’t have something more resembling a friendship than just seeing him once every few months at Stark Tower or in the field. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky texts him his location about an hour later, and he gets so distracted staring at the address on his phone that Sam slaps him on the back of the head. “Ow, what the fuck?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What, did Bucky send you a dick pic or something?” Sam makes to reach out for his phone, and he instinctively holds it against his chest, knowing full well there’s no such picture. Well, not on the screen right then anyway. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bucky’s having milkshakes with Clint,” Steve finds himself saying, sounding much more maudlin than he would if he’d used his brain before opening his flighty, traitorous mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clara peeks up from behind her laptop. “Barton?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I see,” Sam smirks, shifting around in his seat like he’s getting ready to whip out a whole ass lecture.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve beats him to it. “No, you don’t see. You see nothing. There’s nothing to see.” He looks back down at the text. It’s only a fifteen minute ride away. It’s not like he’s busy right now. Okay, he’s <em>working</em>, but whatever, what good is being who he is if he can’t ditch whenever the mood strikes?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I see it too,” Dani jumps in. “Bucky’s going on dates with your teammate and you’re-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve scowls. “He’s not- They’re not dates! They’re just spending time together. As friends.” He nods, case closed. “They’re hanging out.” He can’t help but mumble in misery, “With milkshakes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Steve, I’ll make you milkshakes myself,” Dani offers, which does pull a smile out of him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve looks at his phone once more, before getting up. “I’m gonna go join him. Them. Bucky invited me, that’s- I’ll, yeah, I’ll go.” He goes around gathering his wallet, keys, and jacket, weaving around the piles of records and friends.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ooh, chaperoning, fun!” Sam calls out, before abruptly sitting up. “Wait, you’re going? We have to leave?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Got it in one. Come on, pack up,” Steve orders. It’d be much easier to leave them to it but they all know the routine, regardless of how much they’re dragging their feet. Dani’s already putting away the leftover food, and Steve helps take care of the dishes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clara whines, “But Steve, we’re not even halfway done!” Steve pays her no mind, and she gets everything together and into her bag soon enough. They’re out the door in five minutes, though Sam and Clara are pouting up a storm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have fun third-wheeling!” Sam’s voice follows him as he walks to his car, dripping with sarcasm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve slams the door shut with an eloquent, “Go fuck yourself, Sam!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>▽</p>
<p> </p>
<p>◆</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look at you, all matching,” Bucky comments, and Clint visibly notes the cool pink of his strawberry milkshake, his patterned leggings, and the plastic edges of his hearing aids.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, would you look at that.” He slurps at the thick drink loudly, wincing at what must be a hit of brain freeze. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky himself can’t help but let out a borderline indecent moan as the taste of salted caramel coats his tongue. “This is so good. I don’t understand how this is so good.” Clint nods along, bopping his head to a silent tune. Bucky’s noticed that he does that, when he’s enjoying particularly delicious food. “You know, Steve thinks we’re ruining our exercise by getting something so fatty right after.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No no no, when it’s something this mouth-watering, the taste cancels out the sugar.” Clint reaches over for a long teaspoon, choosing to scoop up the little chunks of fruit. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky wrinkles his forehead. “That’s… not how food works.” Clint ignores his very valid objection, licking up wayward drops from his chin. Bucky’s phone chimes with a message from Steve, saying he’s on his way. “Oh, Steve’s coming by!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really?” Clint asks almost doubtfully. Bucky doesn’t know what his face is doing but Clint hastily adds, “He just never usually… comes to things,” and then after a beat, “Makes sense, though. If he’d make time for anyone, it’d be you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky honestly can’t tell if that’s a jab at anything, but it could easily be an innocent comment. “Manhattan’s a long way to go,” he points out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not that far away,” Clint argues. Bucky wants to say more about how even <em>he</em> wouldn’t make the effort of crossing the bridge to do most anything, much less go all the way to midtown if given the choice, but elects to let it go. “How’d that happen, by the way?” Bucky gestures a vague question at him. “You and Steve,” he clarifies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky plays with his straw, stabbing the bottom of the metal cup and making little dull thuds. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint shrugs. “I never even knew Steve was into guys. Or anyone really, never saw him with a woman either.” <em>That</em> doesn’t sound right, but when he thinks about it, it makes sense. It’s not like Steve would bring anyone he was casually seeing - or had a one night stand with, as was more his MO, Bucky knows firsthand - to a work thing with the Avengers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that. <em>Oh yeah, he whips out his pride flag when he’s alone</em>? He’s not sure how to take the comment. “Pepper introduced us,” he decides to go with. It’s not like he’ll share the night of when they first met. He might be building a friendship with the guy, but he’s not going to start telling him his life story.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have to say, when I heard she tried to give him a PA, I didn’t think he’d accept.” Clint’s been mostly engaging in easy small talk the past couple times they’ve hung out, but the mention of Steve is prompting questions that might skirt topics Bucky’s going to have to avoid.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint’s not wrong. Steve never meant to take on anyone Pepper found - until he walked in and took a shot in the dark. He’s tempted to make a lewd suggestion, but that requires some prior knowledge of Steve as a person, which he can’t say Clint has. A toned down, “I can be charming,” will have to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It makes Clint laugh anyway, open and friendly as he always is. “You’re not what I expected for Steve’s - partner?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky doesn’t hold back the eye roll. “What, is it my age? My gender? My job? A combination of all three?” He makes sure to sound playful enough that he doesn’t come across as pissed off. He <em>does</em> want to make sure to tamp down the more confrontational path they’re going down before Steve arrives, though. His boyfriend’s got a much shorter fuse. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kind of,” Clint admits calmly. Bucky hums noncommittally. He can’t possibly be expected to say anything to that. “Sorry, I don’t mean to offend you.” He looks apologetic, and sincere enough as far as Bucky can tell. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He lets a comforting smile take over. “It takes a lot more than that to insult me, Clint.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint gives him a once over. “Sure does.” He shifts in his seat, leaning forward the slightest bit. “But really, you had to bribe Steve to join us, right?” Bucky bursts into laughter, tossing a balled up straw wrapper at Clint’s head, and hitting the edge of his cup. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You gotta trade for secrets. Tell me which power bars are thin enough that you can sneak them into events under your pants, cause that’s valuable information.” Clint’s suit pants may not be as closely fitted as his own, but they’re tailored enough that your regular trail mix would definitely make a noticeable lump.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint leans back, theatrically stroking his chin. “You drive a hard bargain.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky doesn’t get to hear about Clint’s magical food shrinking powers, because Steve chooses that moment to appear and slide in next to him. “Steve!” Bucky greets him with a soft kiss, hoping to convey how grateful he is that Steve chose to come after all. He appreciates that Steve’s trying, in his own way. “Did you get anything?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, chocolate and blueberry cheesecake. You can have a sip later.” He kisses Bucky once more on the cheek before turning to Clint. “Hey, Clint, how are you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m fantastic. And sore. This class is tougher than I thought it’d be, it’s kind of kicking my ass.” He grabs a paper towel and wipes away the stray drops on the table. “It’s good to see you, man. This must be some record, I only saw you last month.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The words may be teasing, but the tone isn’t malicious, and Steve simply gives him a wry grin. “Found the time,” he says shortly, eyeing the little bit of milkshake Bucky’s still got.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s salted caramel,” Bucky dutifully slides the drink over without prompting, because he can see Steve all but drooling over the sight of his leftovers. He’s rewarded with a peck before Steve’s lips busy themselves with finishing off the drink. “You interrupted a very important negotiation,” Bucky confesses. “Some really high profile stuff.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve quirks an eyebrow, and looks over at Clint’s solemn face. “Sorry, Steve, you haven’t been cleared. It’s top secret.” Clint affects a defensive stance. “Need to know basis.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And I… don’t need to know?” Bucky can see Steve trying to navigate the new dynamic, with Clint crossing the line of only being in one specific, sectioned off part of his life. They both nod in unison, just in time for a waiter to arrive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here are your shakes,” the man sets down Steve’s order along with multiple straws and extra cups, and then a plate of immaculate, golden fries. “Those are on the house. Perfectly cooked for dipping.” Bucky scrunches his nose at the idea but Steve just says, “Thanks, Larry,” and follows the suggestion. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ew, Steve,” Bucky exclaims. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? <em>You</em> don’t gotta do it. I think it tastes great.” Steve distributes the cups and pours himself the majority. “Clint, you want some?” Clint slurps up the last of his strawberry milkshake, before grabbing a cup and holding it out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After having a taste and deeming it even better than his original choice, Clint picks up a fry and eats it covered in chocolatey goodness too. “Oh yeah, this is some good shit. Bucky, your man’s right, you don’t wanna miss out on this.” Bucky fake shudders in his seat, wrapping his hands around his own cup and away from the other two, like they’d start dropping in fries any second. “You must be Brooklyn’s golden boy, free food everywhere you go,” he comments off handedly to Steve.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky chooses to busy himself with his beverage, but Steve just gives a dismissive sheepish shrug, and asks about their class instead. He gets some stories of Clint fumbling through the first session before getting his bearings quickly, and keeping up just fine come this week. “If you wanna try, I bet you’d get in the swing of things just as easily,” Bucky shoots him a shit-eating grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Buck, come on,” Steve nudges him away, but follows it with pulling him back in against his side. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It won’t be much of a workout for you,” Clint weighs in. “Isn’t your regimen crazy intense?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve makes a so-so gesture with his free hand. “Eh, kind of. It’s probably not that much different from yours. Just as long as I do it most days, I’m good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint sweeps his eyes across Steve’s shoulders in assessment. “Huh. Didn’t know that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A pilates class, though,” Steve moves on, and grimaces. “All those people…” Bucky snickers even at the image of Steve clumsily trying to get the instructions right and failing. Steve’s pushing on his shoulder like he has all intentions of shoving him away in mock irritation, but kisses the top of his hair instead, because he can never resist a giggling Bucky. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah, that’s just stage fright,” Clint tries to explain away. “Maybe you’re not used to feeling-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve scoffs loudly. “Sorry,” he puts up a hand. “Sorry, I just- You think <em>I’m</em> not well acquainted with stage fright? Clint, I did a <em>tour</em>. I was decked out in some polyester monstrosity that saw so many stages all the way to fuckin’ Italy. My name should be in the goddamn dictionary under that term.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint tilts his head a fraction, seemingly considering him. Steve’s not squirming under the scrutiny, because when has he ever, but Bucky lays a hand on his thigh both to offer comfort and calm him down, because he knows it aggravates Steve that even people who see him as Captain America can’t seem to get the history right. <em>If they’re so obsessed with the character, how is it so easy to forget its fucking origins?</em> he had ranted at Bucky once. “Hmm, you’re right, you’re uniquely familiar with it,” is what Clint settles with. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t want you there anyway,” Bucky cuts in to change the subject. “You get way too needy when I’m being all stretchy,” he sends a knowing look Steve’s way, half a glare and a challenge.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s the leggings, honey,” he says into the side of Bucky’s head, messing up the tendrils of his hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint snorts from across the table, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize how sickening you are together.” Bucky sticks a tongue out at him, and Clint drops his jaw in semi mock fashion. “What are you, twelve?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m 26 actually, as of last week,” Bucky declares haughtily. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint lets the straw in his mouth slip out. “Wait, it was your birthday?” At Bucky’s nod, he exclaims, “Happy birthday, man! Damn, I didn’t realize. I would’ve <em>at least</em> paid for your milkshake.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky laughs, eyes crinkling in amusement. “Thank you, but maybe next time. We celebrated suitably anyway, and it was perfect even without your free frothy dessert.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint makes to turn off his hearing aids, proclaiming, “If you’re gonna talk about sex with Steve I’m gonna have to stop you right there,” earning a laugh from Bucky. He feels Steve’s eyes on him, something unreadable in his features. Is this the first time he’s spent time with one of his teammates strictly recreationally? It can’t be, but maybe the first time where it’s on his own turf. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, that too, but you’re gonna have to treat me to a better meal to hear the juicy details on <em>that.</em>” Clint laughs, but Steve huffs out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a groan. “It’s okay, Steve,” he pats at his boyfriend’s arm. “I’ll hold out for way more than a meal when it’s <em>People</em> asking for an exclusive.” That one gets a cackle out of his new friend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve looks him in the eye and says, “I will fire you,” in the most deadpan voice, but Bucky stays unruffled, finishing off his cup and nudging it against Steve’s, asking for more. Steve slides his share over without a second thought. Like he’d fire Bucky when he can’t even defend his own milkshake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky circles back to their original topic of conversation. “We went down to Boston to visit my sister, got to see her do her thing and everything.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do her thing?” Clint asks hesitantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky grabs a fry - though he doesn’t dip it into anything - and elaborates, “She’s a gymnast.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh wow, that’s really cool,” Clint finishes the last of their snack. “I kind of am too, you know-“ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before he can delve into his apparently gymnastic past, Bucky’s phone goes off, and he doesn’t miss the weird look from Clint. He’s had a couple incidents in class where his phone rings and he has to step out to answer it, even when it should have been on silent. Like it or not, his job means that any calls from Rita, Sam, or the guys always has to come through, and it’s set up as such. He’s always apologetic enough after that everyone lets it go, but it does paint him as somewhat of an inconsiderate dick. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It must not have escaped Clint’s notice, if the way he eyes Bucky’s phone is any indication. He picks up and barely says anything on his end of the line, but gives Steve a significant enough look that he takes the hint and pulls out his wallet to leave a hefty tip, and start packing up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We gotta get going,” Bucky says as soon as he hangs up, slipping into his coat and grabbing his bag. “I’ll see you in class next week?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, yeah, sure,” Clint gets up along with them, downing the last bit of his drink in one gulp. “Everything okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s all good,” Bucky shoots him a smile. Steve opens the door and leads them out, pulling out his keys. Clint whistles at the sight of Steve’s car, a vintage Mustang Grieves said she’d revamped just for him, in a stunning dark green. Clint’s only ever seen the car they get Leo to drive them in to events, or the one they take when making the trek to Stark Tower.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s one hell of a ride,” Clint calls out to them, as they duck in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve just waves his goodbye, and yells out a quick, “See you around, Clint!” through the crack in the window before closing it up and pulling away. Bucky doesn’t think that went too badly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>◆</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Things at the house aren’t madness, but they’re another kind of quiet chaos. There aren’t bustling Roshars right and left, a shouting match coming out of the backroom, or scattered paperwork on various surfaces - all of which Bucky’s been witness to the past couple years. The tension seems to be simmering under the surface, with a nervous undercurrent that’s making him fidget as he stays in the back to silently observe. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you sure that’s what she said?” Sam asks, grilling the Roshar propped up on the couch further. He nods and shifts gingerly, careful not to jostle his broken leg. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was hopped up on painkillers for a while but lucid by then. I mean, look at me, I wouldn’t have even made it to the hospital if it wasn’t for them, much less been able to afford it.” His leg- Oscar’s leg, that’s his name as far as Bucky remembers, is broken in two places, having been run over by a motorbike. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Business had gone south on the road back to Brooklyn, still all the way in Pittsburg at the time. Two people picked him up and got him back on his feet in a matter of 24 hours, who turned out to be from the Chicago Mob - when are they gonna be done with those guys?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The way he tells it, when they saw that Oscar had been out there doing a job for the Roshars, they were even more eager to help, and to send a message: A request for peace and amity going forward. They would suspect the Chicago Mob themselves of sending the guy on the bike to hurt Oscar, except they knew exactly who <em>that</em> asshole was. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know we would’ve handled that,” Dani cuts in, frowning. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oscar sighs, rubbing his temple. “Yeah, I know, sorry. I’m just feeling a little-,” he makes an indistinguishable gesture with his hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve pats him on the shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright, just get some rest. Go home and heal up, okay? Let us know if you need anything.” He hands over the crutches, and helps Oscar get up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, Steve,” Oscar says quietly. He’s not one of the guys who usually hangs around the house, and probably only sees Steve at the rare large gathering like the annual block party. According to Dani, he’s been with them for a couple decades, since his early twenties, but spends most of his free time with his family at home. Steve gives him a comforting smile and he hobbles out, shutting the front door and leaving Rita and Steve’s inner circle behind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rita gets up from where she was leaning against the kitchen table, and settles into an empty armchair. “Well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Steve sighs heavily, sitting across from her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clara clears her throat, uncharacteristically walking on eggshells around the two Roshars. “Is there someone we can contact at the Chicago Mob?” Steve and Rita exchange an indecipherable look. “We can extend a thank you, for the help, to acknowledge the olive branch offered.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, that’s alright. I think they were pretty clear,” Steve rebuffs her, and when Clara looks to Rita for either guidance or backup, the woman doesn’t say a word.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We should at least make sure that we don’t bump heads with them in the coming months,” Rita orders. “Let’s take them at their word, and see what happens.” After everything, Bucky’s not sure that’s the smartest move, but Steve and Rita seem to be the only ones who know all the cards at play, so, really, <em>the smartest move</em> is listening to them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve leans forward, clasping his hands together and speaking lowly, though not in any attempt to hide his words. “I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive and forget, much less jump into bed with them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Neither am I,” Rita agrees. “But there’s no harm in confirming a cease fire and building a good rapport with an organization as big as they are.” Steve looks to be on the verge of reminding Rita how formidable the Roshars are, even if they had to go up against the Chicago Mob, but bites his tongue at Rita’s quelling look. She of all people is well aware of that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, okay,” he settles back into the cushions, then changes his mind and springs up onto his feet. “I’m just gonna-,” he grabs his jacket and pulls out a pack. “I’m gonna head home.” He says a goodbye, and he and Bucky make their way outside.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You okay?” Bucky asks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve heaves a sigh, but manages a small smile. “Yeah, I just really hate dealing with those guys.” He fiddles with something in his pocket, most likely a lighter, if he’s to guess from the familiar flicks of metal. “I hope whatever truce we manage lasts but-,” he shrugs. “I think I’m gonna take a walk. Do you wanna take the car home?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, sure,” Bucky gets the unspoken request and takes the offered keys, then goes onto his tiptoes to brush their lips together, parting Steve’s mouth with his own for a short moment. “Will you be home late?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve shakes his head, his smile a bit warmer than it was before. “Couple hours, tops.” He drags Bucky back in for a proper kiss when he reaches for the car door, both searching for and offering comfort in the embrace. “Love you, Buck,” he murmurs against Bucky’s jaw, soft lips scraping against the light scruff that’s grown throughout the day. It works as well as it can.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please let me know your thoughts if you’ve got them!</p><p>Thanks for reading, and expect more coming very soon.</p><p>There will also be another installment in this series, so if that’s something you’re interested in and want to watch out for, make sure to adjust your subscription/bookmark to the series or however you usually keep tabs on new works!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>some fun in the sun.</p>
<p>Thanks to beta reader Meraki_Moli as always.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One of Steve’s birthday presents for Bucky was a planned vacation to Santorini, for a whole week in May. He’s been preparing all month for the trip, shopping for bathing suits, clothes, and other accessories, all of which Steve is more than happy to indulge. Becca was incredibly jealous when Bucky asked for help to research the area they’ll be staying in, in a small but luxurious house on the coast, which he thinks is rented out and not somehow actually owned by Steve.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her exact words were, “Fuck you, the only way you can make this up to me is by hooking me up with an equally awesome date. Do you know if Rita Ashe is single?” which cracked Bucky up so much that he repeated it to Steve, and prompted his usually tight-lipped boyfriend to imply some tidbits about Rita’s private life. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky’s prepared everything he can possibly think of, putting in Steve’s leave with the Avengers and buying <em>Steve</em> his own swim shorts and summer clothes - some of which he has to admit are for his own benefit. He can <em>feel</em> how smug Steve is, knowing he hit it out of the park this year. Bucky’s thanked him in a myriad of mutually pleasurable ways ever since. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re on the way to the private plane chartered to fly out in less than half an hour, Leo driving and Bucky dozing on Steve’s shoulder in the backseat. It’s only just light out, and he doesn’t see why they can’t have <em>chosen</em> to fly at a more reasonable time. What’s the point of a private plane if you can’t avoid red eyes and early flights? Nevertheless, he keeps his mouth shut because gift horses and whatnot. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even after some of the luxuries he gets to experience as of late, he still can’t say he’s gotten used to the more extravagant displays of wealth Steve entertains every now and then. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Buck, honey, we’re here,” Steve shakes him awake, and he pries his eyes open to find himself coaxed out the open door and propped up against Steve’s warm body. “You awake yet?” He presses kisses onto his eyelids as if to help with the process.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmm,” Bucky hums, taking a moment to gather himself before deliberately focusing on his surroundings. “Yeah, yeah. I’m awake, I’m fine.” Steve looks unconvinced, but leads Bucky to the stairs leading up to the open cabin anyway. He notices Steve dragging his suitcase along and looks for his own, finally spotting Leo carrying it ahead of them. “Oh shit, Leo, let me-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Leo laughs at him, and disregards his words. “It’s cool, I’m just gonna put this inside.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks,” he says sheepishly, even as Steve’s handing his own luggage over while they stay down by the lower steps of the entrance. He looks around in search of what it is they’re waiting for, until he sees someone he’s assuming is the pilot approach. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Buck,” Steve sports that goofy grin he gets when he’s really excited. “You haven’t met Captain Rambeau. She’s one of our pilots.” The woman he’s introduced to is smiling just as brightly, unbothered by the early morning and looking commanding in her sharp pilot gear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Call me Maria,” she offers Bucky a hand, which he shakes with as much dignity as he can when he’s got sleep lines on his cheek. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Bucky.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You, too.” Bucky smoothes down his hair and chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Wow, I wish I looked better right now, it’s kinda early for me.” While Steve seems to have an air of respect around the Captain, he’s equally at ease, so Bucky’s got no doubts Maria is more a friend than a formal acquaintance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The woman laughs, a warm easy going sound that Bucky can’t help but like. “That’s just fine, if I weren’t working I’d be in bed, too.” Bucky shoots Steve a look, silently asking him <em>why in the name of all that is holy</em> they had to do this at the crack of fucking dawn. Steve’s oblivious, still grinning through his excitement, which has been steadily building the closer they got to this trip. “You guys ready?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve steps back to let Maria on first. “After you.” Bucky follows at their heels, catching snippets of Steve asking after her wife and daughter, and catching her up on some of his own life as well, from doing house renovations to Rita’s wellbeing. Apparently Maria travels so much for her job that she doesn’t get to be around as much as she’d like. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The plane is comfortable, big enough for a handful of people and equipped with a decent bathroom and sizable fridge. If it were any other flight, Bucky would sleep through it snuggled up with Steve, and while he does do that for a large part of it, it’s a long damn way to get to the island. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hums in comfort as all encompassing hands absentmindedly trail across his back, tracing his shoulder blades, the line of his spine, and the dip in his waist, warming up his body and lighting sparks under his skin. He shifts closer, breathing into the crook of Steve’s neck, his leg hooked around a thigh, wrapping himself around Steve’s limbs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a minute of squirming around, he slips his hands under the breathable cotton shirt and caresses smooth bare skin. He shifts once more to press closer, and then finally blankets every inch of Steve’s body with his own. “Steve,” he mumbles, nosing up his neck and behind his ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky gradually goads Steve into less than upstanding activities to pass the time, and his attempts get a token protest. To his delight, Bucky barely has to make any effort to have Steve let him get on his knees in the private cabin. It’s illicit enough that it takes minimum attention in return after he swallows Steve down, to find his own release. “You’re a menace,” Steve says into his skin, sounding pleasantly hoarse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky pointedly licks into Steve’s mouth, tasting himself on the man’s tongue. “Look who’s talking.” He stares at Steve, debauched and sated across the cream leather upholstery, cheshire cat grin plastered on, and wonders who seduced whom here. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The majority of their time on board is spent in a much more wholesome manner, watching a few movies and snacking on sweets. They toss m&amp;ms back and forth into each other’s mouths, until one hits Bucky’s teeth so hard that his eyes start watering, prompting Steve to drop his packet and spill the rest onto the carpet, rushing to his side like he has a far worse injury. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck, honey, I’m so sorry. Don’t got a clue how I did that.” Steve tries his best to kiss the spot better by treating the outside of his jaw, a pointless endeavor, but not one Bucky’s willing to give up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s all fun and games until you crack a tooth,” he sighs in fake resignation. Steve looks so alarmed at the joke that he backtracks at once. “I’m just kidding, Steve, my tooth’s fine.” The lines on his forehead are so deep he’s half convinced Steve is going to make him see some Greek dentist as soon as they land. “I swear, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve looks doubtful but doesn’t try to get him to get it checked out, and thankfully the subject is never brought up when they do get there. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Santorini is gorgeous. It’s a sprawling view of nature mixed with beautiful architecture, and Bucky gets to watch it all go by as they drive to the house. Deena, one of the Roshars, picks them up in the car they’re meant to use while in town, having been staying at the house a few days ahead of them to check the property and surrounding areas out for security reasons. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tells him about how the Roshars all but fight over who gets to take the job whenever Rita or Steve decide to go on vacation, because it’s basically an all expenses paid trip to lounge around on their holiday destination between doing security checks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve laughs, muttering, “Shit, maybe we shoulda done a company retreat or somethin’, if everyone’s so desperate for a vacation.” Deena rolls her eyes at the suggestion and the ridiculousness of a horde of Roshars going away <em>on a company retreat</em>. Ridiculous sure is one way to put it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The house is small and decked out with everything they need just like Steve said, and secure just as Deena promised. She leaves them to it, and Steve gets her a cab to the hotel near where she’ll be flying back home with Maria the next day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky goes to check out all the rooms, the main bedroom with a view of the ocean, a large bathroom with a giant tub, a closet and laundry room tucked in the back, and an open plan kitchen and living room with a patio left open to let in the fresh sea breeze. “Wait ’til you see this,” Steve pulls him away from the view, up to the roof. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky gapes at the pool overlooking the beach and water, with the softest looking loungers lining the side of the area. He pulls Steve to lean against the edge of the low glass wall. “So, I know we’ve got that dinner thing tomorrow night, but what should we do today?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve pulls him impossibly close, mouthing along his jaw and down his neck. “Hmm, how about that restaurant we looked up, and then straight down to the beach?” Bucky hums his assent, but quickly gets distracted by Steve’s lips. They don’t make it to the restaurant until a couple hours later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>◆</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The place they’re waiting at is outdoors, with lots of other patrons talking in loud enough volumes that it provides a certain degree of privacy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first day on the island was spent enjoying the beach, popping in and out of nearby restaurants to fuel up before getting back on the sand or in the water. When he wasn’t sunbathing and laying across Steve’s chest or leisurely making out under the shade, Bucky waded in the water and dragged Steve along to float and splash around - not that it took much convincing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Today, they spent most of their time visiting recommended tourist spots, to get those out of the way, before going back to relaxing and exploring the area, lounging back by the water, or walking and driving around the city. It’s been pretty heavenly, but tonight’s a short break from that paradise as they meet with one of Steve’s overseas contacts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re both in nice but casual clothes, linen shirts and tailored pants, sunglasses set aside as the sun goes down and twinkling lights go up. Bucky pushes away his pineapple flavored fizzy drink, and makes himself comfortable against Steve’s side. “When was the last time you saw this contact?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve plays with the tips of his hair, which has progressively gotten frizzier the longer they’ve been entrenched in the humidity. He thinks it’s a little ridiculous but Steve won’t stop touching it. He’s been thoroughly enjoying curling his fingers into the mess. “Not too long before we met, actually.” He steals a sip from Bucky’s tall glass. “She’s been busy so we couldn’t meet last year but we try to see each other once a year or so.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Always at tropical getaways?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve laughs, and presses soft lips to his hairline. “Nah, just wherever either of us happen to be.” He smoothes back a stray lock of hair, and turns his attention to where Bucky’s got his eye when he makes a noise of alarm. “That’s her.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky fights to keep his eyebrows from flying upwards and clean off his head. Walking through the entrance is a striking young woman in an incredible embroidered blue dress, long sleeves and modest bodice highlighting her strength, though it’s not apparent from anything as physical as her muscles or the cut of her figure. It’s the way she holds herself, commanding and regal, yet far from stiff. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By her side is an older woman in trousers and a jacket clearly made of thick, expensive fabrics, who Bucky would bet his life savings is armed to the teeth. It’s not hard to parse out that she’s the muscle, or personal bodyguard of sorts, especially with the two other women circling the area methodically, advancing further into the establishment as their contact gets guided by a hostess. They’re anything but inconspicuous, but it’s clear they’re not trying to be. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That,” Steve says into his ear, “is the most powerful person in all seven continents.” He looks Bucky in the eye. “And most people don’t even know her name.” He stands up to greet them, and Bucky all but scrambles to follow suit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The hostess leaves without a word once the two women join their table. Bucky wonders how often things like this happen around here, where waiters and other service workers learn to block out conversations or turn a blind eye, though this isn’t much of a clandestine meeting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Steve,” the younger woman says once she’s in earshot, and Steve bounds over to hug her hello. They’re more familiar than Bucky expected, but he stands by Steve’s side without batting an eye. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s been way too long, Shuri,” Steve says into her shoulder, sounding as sincere as he ever has. Maybe he should’ve said that this was <em>a friend</em> and not a fucking contact. Steve’s such a drama queen. “Okoye, how have you been?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Busy, but good.” The older woman breaks out into a blinding grin, pulling Steve in for a quick but forceful hug. “We’ve heard about the newcomer, is it James or Bucky?” She turns keen eyes onto him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her gaze is piercing, and Bucky has to fight to keep his cool and offer a nonchalant handshake. “Bucky, please. It’s nice to meet you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The younger woman, Shuri, if he heard correctly, cuts in as soon as Okoye lets go of his hand with a friendly hug of her own. Up close, she looks much younger than he thought, barely in her early twenties. “I can’t wait to hear about everything we missed! I wish there was time to meet last year.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, Shuri, let him breathe,” Steve lays a hand on Shuri’s arm, but is quickly intercepted by Okoye as she gently but firmly lifts it off and away, Steve backing up without question. Shuri doesn’t even acknowledge the exchange, but it jars Bucky all the same.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Food, then stories, come on,” Shuri gets to her seat, and Steve and Okoye stay on their feet until she sits down. Bucky follows their example, slowly coming to the realization of who Shuri might be. They order an abundance of food, as is expected when Steve’s at the table, and Okoye bemoans the lack of her favorite local dessert.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Regardless of the missing caramel covered sweets, all four of them have a fantastic time swapping stories of the past couple years and gorging on fantastic Greek food. The news about Maia’s impending motherhood gets a delighted squeal from Shuri, and a promise of gift baskets galore. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, the thing I’ve been working on,” Shuri starts. Bucky learns that she’s a scientist on top of her many other roles and duties. He only wonders for a moment how Steve has a friend this impressive. “It’ll make up fifteen percent of the coming shipment.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve pauses in demolishing his dessert. “<em>Fifteen percent?</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s good product,” Shuri explains authoritatively. “It replaces two other different medications, with increased efficacy and longevity. The substitution is permanent in all coming shipments.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve works his jaw, studying Shuri closely. “And the hike in price?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Only two percent.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t take an increase in price if I’m getting the same amount in the shipment,” Steve says casually. Bucky’s relieved to see the absence of any tension, the two discussing business without any subterfuge or hidden agendas. It’s refreshing, and clearly par for the course, because Okoye’s paying them no mind and focused on carefully cracking open the caramel shell around her melted chocolate treat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shuri rolls her eyes, though not unkindly. “It’s <em>better</em> product. People will need to buy less of it.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s a harder sell than you think,” Steve’s lips form a wry smile. “One percent.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Steve, two percent is a carefully calculated price increase based on the cost of manufacturing.” The two stare each other down for a whole minute before Shuri grates out, “One and <em>a half</em> percent, and the new product only takes up fourteen percent of the shipment.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve triumphantly exclaims, “Sounds great to me!” He returns to his food, before asking, “Should we order some food to go for Xoliswa and Ayo?” From the way he tilts his head to one of the women flanking them at the edges of the surrounding area, he’s pretty sure Steve’s talking about Shuri’s detail.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, but don’t get anything with peanuts. Ayo’s allergic,” Shuri informs him, but Steve’s already nodding along halfway through.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I remember.” He waves down a waiter and orders half the menu to go, then gets up to settle the bill at the counter. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shuri takes a long minute to examine Bucky, the sharp look in her eyes betraying the level of intelligence reinforcing her position in a myriad of rooms and worlds. “You know, I’ve never met anyone Steve’s dating.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky tries to unravel the implications of that statement. “I’d like to think we’re doing more than that.” His voice graciously doesn’t waver.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hope we see you the next time we meet,” Okoye tells him. “Please know that if you were to disclose anything Steve tells you about the Kingdom of Wakanda, you will be in violation of multiple royal decrees and international law-,” Shuri cuts her off with the touch of her hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We hope to see you again,” Shuri reiterates.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky tries to put on his most trustworthy smile. “You will.” He doesn’t dare say a word about how Wakanda’s own operations don’t seem to be all that <em>lawful</em> if Steve’s their business associate - not that Bucky disapproves. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve returns not long after with the bags of food, and they head out to meet with the other two women, both of whom greet Steve warmly and take extreme interest in Bucky’s presence. Goodbyes are quick, even with considerably extensive hugs between Steve and the women, and they end the night walking along the water to head back to the house. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So that was a royal member of Wakanda,” Bucky says, playing with the fingers Steve’s got tangled with his own. “Right? I didn’t get that wrong?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The path down the beach in deserted this late past midnight, but he doesn’t miss how Steve keeps his voice from carrying. “That was Princess Shuri of Wakanda. Her brother is King T’Challa.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow,” Bucky can’t help but let out. He doesn’t know if he wishes he’d known that going in, or if this is better, to not have a freak out leading up to the oh-so-casual dinner with Wakanda royalty. “I can’t say I’ve heard a lot about Wakanda.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Not a lot of people have.” He kisses Bucky’s knuckles once, then twice. “They’re pretty isolated. Completely, actually. Publicly, they’re a country with limited resources, but they’re the most advanced territory in the world. No outsider’s been allowed in as far as I know, and they don’t share much of anything with the rest of us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s with the secrecy?” Bucky furrows his eyebrows. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s complicated, a lot of politics is involved,” Steve shrugs, resigned but understanding. “But this is how they try to still help those not in Wakanda without exposing themselves, using backchannels to distribute medicine, some technology, and whatever else, under the radar. I’ve never met King T’Challa, but he’s always been very accommodating with the needs of some of our people, as far as I can tell from Shuri.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sound like they’re doing a lot of good,” Bucky looks out at the flickering lights of the surrounding city, almost like stars in the darkness. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve kisses his cheekbone, then closer to his ear, pulling him in to shield against the breeze when he shivers. “You got no idea.” Bucky may have expected to enter into a different kind of life when he chose to work for Steve, and subsequently <em>be</em> with him, and he knew he’d encounter things he’d never even considered before, but this isn’t something he ever thought he’d be privy to. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s well aware of the privilege he’s got to simply <em>know</em> about the existence of a different Wakanda than most are familiar with. It makes him wonder what else out there has more depth than he’d be certain to say otherwise. It’s an eye-opening revelation he can barely wrap his mind around.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>◆</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a single boat trip guided by Sam under the belt, it’s no surprise that neither of them picked up how to sail. Instead of winging it, as Steve suggested and Bucky immediately shot down, they hire a boat with a Captain for the day. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The view is much better than the one they had on their anniversary back home, though that’s to be expected. They do a picnic on the open deck, an array of culinary finds they’ve gathered from exploring the past few days laid in front of them, and even the local dessert Okoye was so upset to miss at their dinner, which they found at a market one town over. Bucky can wholeheartedly confirm that Okoye’s disappointment was warranted. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve props himself up on one arm, gazing down at him with a look so tender Bucky’s glad he’s got a pair of sunglasses on to hide how naked it makes him feel. “Thanks for-,” he gestures with a minute shrug of his shoulder, “all of this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Steve, this is <em>your</em> gift to <em>me</em> for my birthday. I think you’ve got this thing backwards,” he brushes away the dark blonde hair falling into Steve’s eyes, now as long as when they first met. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not what I meant,” Steve whispers into the inch of space between them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky sighs, shifting ever closer. “I know, but that’s not how this works. Loving you isn’t me doing you a favor, just like I know that’s not what this is for you either.” Steve averts his eyes, drawing indistinct shapes into the skin of his upper arm. When he first started getting to know the man, he was surprised to stumble upon the most unexpected vulnerable sides of him. He’s not as caught off guard now, but it’s no less heartbreaking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I just-,” Steve sinks lower onto the blanket, laying a heavy arm across Bucky’s torso. “This ain’t for me, you know?” At Bucky’s questioning look, he visibly steels himself to be able to go on. “I was never supposed to- I don’t know, find someone, or be with-,” he scoffs at himself. “Wasn’t about my looks or nothin’, always found people to spend time with, but I wasn’t supposed to make it past 19.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He lets out an involuntary noise of hurt, but Steve quickly brushes his lips against the corner of Bucky’s mouth to remind him that he’s here and okay. “Steve.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve shakes his head, either to ask to let him finish, or shake off the worry, Bucky can’t tell. “God, every year after that was just a tickin’ clock. Even once I got healthy, it was always twenty steps away from being cannon fodder.” He takes a moment to gather himself, and all Bucky can do is stay close and listen. “Don’t think I ever got over that sense of- the overwhelming awareness of my own mortality.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you still feel like that?” Bucky’s voice is unmistakably strangled, rough with unnamed emotion. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve settles onto Bucky’s chest, rising and falling with his deep even breaths. “No,” he admits. “Don’t know when that happened, but I know it’s 'cause of you.” It’s a lot of credit to assign, but Steve sounds so certain and self-assured. They’re anything but empty words - not that Steve would ever do that to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not on me, Steve.” He lets his hand lay on the nape of Steve’s neck, feeling the reassuring warmth of life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe not,” Steve allows, though he’s clearly unwavering on that front, lifting himself up to pull Bucky into a long, tender kiss. He tastes like oranges and caramel. “But you helped.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky cradles Steve’s face in his hands, burying his fingers in the soft beard and rubbing his fingertips into the underside of his jaw. “You make me feel alive, too.” And isn’t that exactly what they’ve both been looking for? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>◆</p>
<p> </p>
<p>△</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Getting Bucky to say goodbye to the house proves to be a struggle, especially the bathtub. Steve had to promise to get a bigger tub at home to coax him away from it. Bucky’s in all likelihood  gonna hold him to that. He’s remarkable at remembering promises, especially ones made in jest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even though the entire week was full of relaxation and not much else, they’re both exhausted on the flight back, and spend most of it sleeping and cuddling. Steve’s gearing himself up to jump back into work, mentally preparing for everything that he’s sure has piled up, even with Sam and the guys officially taking over while they were both gone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam had complained, “This is exactly why you don’t sleep with your PA, Steve. You go on a romantic getaway and no one’s left behind handling your shit, because you took the guy with that job description with you.” That got a laugh out of Bucky, but Steve couldn’t help but scowl at his best friend, even if he didn’t say anything <em>wrong</em>, per se. He <em>is </em>sleeping with his PA.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dani astutely pointed out, “Fuck off, Sam, you just don’t wanna go back to fielding Steve’s calls because they’re a piece of work.” Sam grumbled but grudgingly admitted to it, though still rueing the day he let Steve pick Bucky up and take him home. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re both going through their messages, Steve lost in his own phone, going through updates from Sam on having tracked down and taken care of the guy who hurt Oscar. Steve didn’t much care about proportionate responses when it came to leaving anyone of the Roshars bloody and left for dead on the side of the road. They don’t make the same mistake in retaliation - there would be no savior allies swooping in before the job was finished. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tells Sam to have someone check on Oscar and make sure he has everything he needs, now that he’s mostly healed. “Uh, Steve,” Bucky elbows him, showing him his phone. It’s a text from Darcy that reads <em>lolllll</em>, with an accompanying series of pictures. They’re ones of him and Bucky on the beach from a few days ago, trading kisses under the sun. He laughs at the comments underneath, which ranges from <em>that dude looks like captn steve rgers </em>to <em>dream vacayyy</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look real good, Buck,” he hands the phone back, kissing the nearest patch of skin when Bucky rolls his eyes at the compliment. He <em>does</em> look good in the picture, scantily clad in skin tight swimming shorts that come down to right below his ass. His skin is glowing bronze in the sunshine, lean muscles well sculpted and stretched effortlessly like he doesn’t know how gorgeous he is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve turns to curl around Bucky’s smaller frame, letting his hand wander down to the meat above Bucky’s thighs in a not so subtle grab, as similarly depicted in one of the shaky photos. He can’t believe he has all of that right here with him, and his hand kneads the tantalizing muscles like it’s got a mind of its own.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky’s evidently been trying to talk to him, because he feels a harsh smack when his mouth migrates onto a distracting collarbone. “Hmm?” Bucky’s huff of annoyance ruffles his hair, and Steve reigns himself in to pull back and focus. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is it bad that there’s photographic evidence of where we were?” he asks, plain curiosity clear in his tone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve abandons his groping and rubs at Bucky’s back with a more innocent goal of comfort. “Nah, we didn’t do nothin’.” Bucky raises his eyebrows a fraction. “Nothing explicitly Roshar business.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky pulls Steve’s arm tighter around him, nuzzling into the soft sweater stretched across his chest. “Who knows about Shuri and that whole thing?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just Rita and Sam.” He watches Bucky let that sink in, and consider the dangers of having that kind of information. Steve doesn’t second guess Bucky’s choice to take part in one thing or another, because he knows he appreciates Steve letting him stand by his own decisions. Granted, the whole Wakanda thing was sprung onto him a little, but he’s always been all in from the get go and he trusts Bucky to say something if it was a problem. “Hey, you wanna look up new bathtubs for our ensuite?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky’s head whips up in eagerness. “Really?” Steve laughs and brings their mouths together to bite at his bottom lip, earning a long grateful kiss full of tongue and teeth. They spend the remaining few hours on the flight narrowing it down to two choices, and Bucky finally chooses a large freestanding tub that most resembles the one they’d just left behind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As much as he loved everything about their trip, it was good to be home. They might’ve slept for hours on the plane, but it doesn’t truly feel like rest unless it’s sleeping in your own bed. The post-flight shower they take is perfunctory at best, and they don’t even try to get off together under the warm shower. Instead, they fall into bed and revel in the unending layers of blankets and sheets as soon as they’re acceptably dry, and pass out in a heap of tangled limbs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>▽</p>
<p> </p>
<p>◆</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maia’s been in town for a little more than a month, staying with Rita and hanging around the house often enough that Bucky’s been seeing her regularly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She claims that it’s the perfect place to be because there’s always someone around to help her grab things without getting up, or at least <em>help her get up</em> when she has to go to the bathroom for the tenth time in an hour. Additionally, and probably more importantly, there’s always food around, either Dani’s own magical concoctions or things Steve brings around. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now that Maia’s usually at the house, Steve always brings extra food for <em>both</em> porch kid and the new resident taste tester. It’s a hit or miss, though, sometimes hitting Maia’s cravings right on the nose and other times making her puke just from the smell alone. When it’s the latter, Steve always gets so guilty and bummed out that Maia has to console him herself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uhmaguord,” Pete groans out, mouth full of Steve’s signature stir fry. He’s refined the recipe recently, because the original had something that made Maia gag the second they brought it into the house. It was a blessing in disguise, because the new iteration is miles better. “Wudeetchootu!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve stares blankly at him, and Bucky comes to the rescue with a, “We can’t tell what you’re saying, kid.” Pete waves away the issue and digs in for more. Maia, who’s sprawled out next to him, is stealing forkfuls of the dish for herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Letting those two eat next to each other is a disaster, because Maia always steals more from Pete’s plate, and the kid keeps voluntarily giving his share away until he barely eats anything. They have to make sure to let him know there’s more in the kitchen to take. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve lets Pete chew through his mouthful before asking, “How’s the college thing going?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pete shrugs, looking a little down but optimistic nonetheless. “I don’t think I’ll be going this year. Even with scholarships, I can’t afford it right now.” Bucky feels his heart drop at the news, but Steve nods along like he expected it. “Bruce offered me a full time apprenticeship, actually. So I might get to go in a year or two.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kid, that’s great!” Bucky bursts out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He must’ve been a little too enthusiastic because Pete laughs at him, and even Steve’s patting his thigh fondly. Or maybe he’s trying to calm Bucky down. “Yeah, I’m excited. I think it’ll help me with admission too, when I do go to study.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s great, Pete. I’m proud of you.” Pete lights up at Steve’s words, cheeks flushing a touch. Bucky bites down on his amused smile because he doesn’t want to embarrass the kid. “Jesus fu- Whoa, hey there,” Steve steadies Cassie as she climbs up onto his lap, knees and elbows digging into his gut. They didn’t even realize she and Scott were there, the two must have been out back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Steeeve,” Cassie grabs Steve by the cheeks, fingers dangerously close to his eyes. Steve gently guides them lower towards his jaw, sitting back to gain some distance and be able to actually see the blonde. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You been playing outside with your dad?” Steve reaches around to pick out some of the debris stuck in her hair, probably from running around and laying in the yard. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cassie bounces on her heels, grinning from ear to ear. “Daddy made a slide!” Bucky quirks an eyebrow and searches for Scott, finding him coming in through the back door. From the mess, he has a feeling it’s more a mudslide than anything more substantial. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cassie, come on, let’s get cleaned up and eat something,” Scott calls out, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat. Cassie chooses to ignore her father and slides off Steve’s legs, scooting over to Maia. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When baby comes out, can we play?” Maia ruffles her hair, having been increasingly affectionate the closer they get to her due date. It’s only a few weeks away, and Rita’s been running around getting things ready. Maia says her back hurts too badly to do much of anything.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She pulls the little girl up, to sit next to her on the couch. “Sure, when we’re in town I’ll make sure to call you up. I don’t live here, though, Cassie.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh,” Cassie looks forlornly at the bump, placing a small gentle hand on the stretched shirt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maia appears to be on the verge of tears at the sight of Cassie’s look of dismay, and Steve quickly cuts in. “You know, Pietro’s got a baby girl too. Her name’s Erica and she’s almost two.” That seems to wipe the look of distress off her face, and stem the flow of tears on Maia’s end. “Maybe she’ll like the same things you do, and we can go get her some galaxy themed scrunchies and books about space just like you have.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cassie’s beaming brighter than she did even two minutes ago, Maia’s baby all but forgotten. “Is she here?” Her eyes light up, already getting ready to track her down. Bucky’s not sure how Steve’s going to convince Pietro to arrange a playdate with Scott. What is he thinking? Of course, Steve can do that easy. He’s going to have to be the one to break it to Cassie, though, that her scrunchies probably won’t fit Erica’s much smaller head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cassie, where’d you go?” Scott comes around the corner, finally finding his daughter tucked up with Maia. “Oh hey, guys. Hope she hasn’t been a terror.” Cassie scowls at the accusation, crossing her arms in anger. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah, she’s never a terror,” Steve chucks her on the chin, earning a giggle. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, peanut, let’s go. You can come hang out with the big shots after lunch.” He helps her jump down from her perch, taking her hand to lead the way towards one of the rooms by the bathroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cassie follows obediently, tugging on the strap hanging off of Scott’s Cassie backpack, as he calls it, a pack of clothes and snacks he always carries around when he’s got her for the week. “What’s a bitshot? Daddy, have you seen Erica?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Scott sighs, ushering her into the bathroom with a tired, “Nevermi- Who the hell’s Erica?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ugh,” Maia throws her head against the backrest of her couch. “My baby better be <em>at least </em>half as cute as that kid.” Steve rolls his eyes in response, but Bucky crosses his fingers for her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>◆</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think, on my deathbed, I’m gonna be thanking you for introducing me to this place,” Clint declares, dipping a fry into his Reese’s Peanut Butter Triple Chocolate Extravaganza. Bucky grimaces at the sight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s see if your stomach survives all that by tonight and you can decide your dying monologue then.” Bucky drinks his much more reasonable mint chocolate chip. He munches on the free fries Larry’s been serving them ever since Steve joined that one time, wiping grease off his knuckles on a paper towel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My stomach can handle anything, I’ve eaten some pretty questionable things.” Clint holds up his fingers like he’s about to list each and every one of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Argh, stop!” Bucky covers Clint’s hands with his own. “Please don’t.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint laughs, and then gets abruptly cut off by the chiming of Bucky’s phone. “You sure are in high demand, “ he remarks, in a tone Bucky can’t make out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh?” Bucky reads the incoming text, furrowing his brows. “What?” He looks up to Clint’s curious face. “Oh, it’s my sister. She’s… here?” He looks around and sure enough, he can see Becca through the glass window and turning the corner to walk in the door with Darcy. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t- Would you mind?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint’s face has perked up, far from the indecipherable look he had on earlier. “No, it’s cool.” Bucky gets up to greet the newcomers and is soon punched in the arm by his younger sister and kissed on the cheek by Darcy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What, you’re getting milkshakes without me?” She gestures at their table. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky sighs, even though he’s always happy to see Becca. “Becs, this is Clint. Clint, this is my sister Becca and her friend Darcy.” Clint warmly shakes both their hands, then scoots farther into the booth. Bucky follows his lead and asks, “You guys wanna join us? We just got done with pilates and drinking our weight in sugar as a reward.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Darcy slides in next to Clint, and Becca decides to go order for the both of them, before dropping down by Bucky’s side. “Why would you do that after a workout?” Darcy asks, judgement written across her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I cannot take this from you, too,” Bucky holds up his hands. “That’s all Steve’s been on about! This is ridiculous, people go get drinks after the gym all the time, it’s a normal thing.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint tips his head from side to side. “Um, I think that’s smoothies.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, dude,” Becca agrees, even as she steals his drink. “Definitely smoothies.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky shoots daggers at Clint. “How are you not on my side? We should be in this together.” Becca’s order comes, with another free plate of fries, and he steals her cookies and cream in retaliation. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Darcy takes a sip of her chocolate malt, and groans in pleasure. “Wow.” She dips a fry, then gives Bucky an appreciative once over. “Jesus, Bucky, you’re still really tan from your trip.” Bucky looks down at his arms, which he has to admit look particularly good in cut off sleeves. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m surprised you didn’t get burnt with how much sun you were getting,” Becca notes, having gotten the rundown on most of Bucky’s activities while in Santorini. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t, but Steve definitely did, even with all the sunscreen he was slathered in.” Bucky winces at the memory. He’d been meticulous in its application, but it was inevitable. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint waggles his eyebrows, “You know, we saw pictures.” At Bucky’s questioning look, he shares, “Tony found them online, you guys looked pretty cozy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky huffs in mild annoyance. “I had to field calls to Steve from tabloids on those. They’re blurry enough that I’ve just been telling them to fuck off, but <em>fuck</em> are they annoying.” Steve’s lack of a high profile public persona in recent years means he doesn’t deal with paparazzi or anything of the kind, besides the requests Bucky still to this day has to sort through on his Captain America email. However, enough scattered comments online along the lines of <em>hahha cap on a nap</em> and <em>if cpt steeve went on spring brk baaby</em> piqued the interest of a few publications. It was a few weeks before those calls died down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let me just say,” Darcy starts, “I do not work for any kind of magazine, nor do I have a blog, but if you have any high quality pictures of shirtless Steve on the beach, I would be happy to share the burden of looking at them.” Clint cackles, seemingly just as willing to take part. Becca seems to be trying to get the image of sexy Steve out of her mind. Huh, his brotherly cooties really are working. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nu-uh, no pictures for you, Darce,” Bucky shoots her down. “I’ll send you countless pictures Steve took of <em>me</em>, but I don’t like to think of what you might do with ones of him.” Darcy pouts, but chooses her battles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ugh, can we please stop talking about this?” Clint seems baffled by Becca’s aversion to Steve, but doesn’t ask about it. They change the subject for her sake, and Bucky gets to hear about Clint’s gymnastic past after all, even though it was preceded by a very confusing conversation where Clint thought Becca was his gymnast sister.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>While Clint and Darcy exchanged stories on traveling cross-country by car, Becca leans in to ask him, “I didn’t know Steve and Clint were friends. I thought he doesn’t hang out with the Avengers much.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They’re not,” Bucky shrugs. “He came by to join us once a couple months ago, though, when we first started doing this. Progress, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Becca gives him a long flat look. “Once, months ago?” Bucky takes offense at her skeptical tone, and turns to tune back in to the conversation at the table. “Well, I guess that’s something,” Becca mumbles, allowing him the small victory.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>◆</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Twenty minutes into an Avengers meeting on scheduling for the coming year, Steve’s phone rings. It’s unusual enough that Pepper stops talking as everyone looks down the table at the two of them, and even then eyes go to Bucky thinking that it’s him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s a reasonable enough assumption. Bucky takes a lot of calls, some of which ring through even when it should be on silent, and no one ever gets through to Steve’s actual number. At least, as far as these guys know.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve looks down at his phone, knowing exactly who and what it must be. If Rita’s calling, Maia’s probably going into labor. “Ohmygod,” Steve breathes out, eyes wide with something akin to fear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bruce goes to reach out, asking, “Steve, are you okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ohmygod, Bucky.” Steve hovers a thumb over the accept call button. Bucky presses it and puts the phone to his ear for him, faint sounds of Rita’s voice coming through as he’s right next to the speaker. “Jesus fuck.” He stumbles out of his chair, patting his pockets, presumably for his car keys. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They’re right here, Steve,” Bucky grabs his jacket, pulling out the keys but keeping a firm hold. “I’m driving, you’re all over the place.” Steve’s still got the phone to his ear, looking like a deer in the headlights. Bucky doesn’t miss the tears pooling in his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is everything okay?” Pepper’s put down her tablet, coming around the table. Everyone else is halfway out of their seats, too, probably thinking there’s some kind of emergency. Scott’s got a hand over his mouth, already having figured out what the call must be, but trying not to outwardly project his familiarity with Steve’s off duty activities. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve looks back towards his teammates, blinking away his tears. “Yeah, everythi-,” he bursts out into a watery laugh, excitement and joy taking over the panic. “Everything’s fi- No, sorry, I was in a meeting I’ll- Yeah, no, we’ll make it.” He finally hangs up, and turns to Bucky with the biggest smile he’s ever seen on the guy, which is saying a lot. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He can’t imagine how it must feel, to get to welcome a new member to your family when you’ve only got so few left the way Steve does. After a second thought, Bucky can easily imagine, in a similar boat himself with his sisters. “I’ll get us there, come on.” He addresses everyone else, “We have to go, sorry.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can’t just leave, we’re not even done yet,” Tony protests, gesturing to the scheduling paperwork laid out on the table. “It’s one thing to bail as soon as we wrap up, but to ditch in the middle of a meeting?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve doesn’t even bother scrounging up the effort to get annoyed, or explain, for that matter. “We gotta- We gotta go, I’ll try to come in and finish this, um, sometime soon- Fuck!” He gets a portion of his jacket folded and stuck behind his shoulder. Bucky can see Natasha laughing lightly in puzzled amusement, and something about the sight makes him like her a little better.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Steve, breathe,” Bucky tugs on the fabric for him and fixes the jacket, kissing his chin to get him to relax the tiniest bit. “Sorry, Pepper- Everyone-” he takes a glance at Steve to see if he’s willing to tell them a little bit of why they’re in such a rush, or at least make something up, and his expression must convey the thought clear enough for Steve to pick up on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turns to his teammates, their faces bewildered and somewhat worried. “My, uh- My-,” his usually impeccable bullshitting skills seem to be on the fritz, but this whole pregnancy has been throwing him for a loop, so Bucky’s not too surprised. Steve takes a calming deep breath and says, “My friend is having a baby. Right now, and I gotta- I have to go.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh!” Bruce exclaims, going as far as clasping his hands together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony waves his hands in a shooing motion, “Okay, okay, jeez, sorry. Go!” They leave the room to still moderately confused Avengers, but thankfully they don’t look too pissed off. Mostly concerned over Steve’s uncharacteristic outbursts of emotion. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky steps on it and makes it down to the hospital in record time. Rita had told them exactly where to go, so Steve doesn’t have to lose his shit at the front desk. Bucky would be worried about not being let through as Steve’s technically not a blood relative, but thankfully they’re in Brooklyn. Most everyone knows exactly who Steve is, and who’s giving birth in one of these rooms. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They find Kamala, Maia’s best friend who had come to the city earlier in the week to be there for the birth, reading in the waiting room. Bucky knows she has an inkling that Maia’s family, including Steve, is involved in something shady, but always wisely avoids asking too many questions. “She’s already in the delivery room!” She tells them, excitement leaking through her voice. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky gapes. “Doesn’t it take a while to get to that point?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s been having contractions for hours, and it’s just been smooth sailing,” Kamala shrugs, then offers a <em>Us Weekly</em> to Steve, who obediently accepts and sits down next to her. Bucky tells them both he’s getting coffee and snacks, and leaves Steve to his celebrity articles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He goes to the Starbucks next door to get their drinks, because if they’ve still got a few hours to go, he’d rather get something that isn’t out of a vending machine. He takes the time to text Becca and Alice to let them know Steve’s about to be an uncle, and returns with a couple lattes, tea, and hot chocolates, along with some cookies and quiches. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>To his own amusement, Steve and Kamala have chosen to pass the time by asking each other questions from the Cosmo quiz <em>Are you better at making love or having sex?</em> Bucky would weigh in with first hand knowledge, but Steve seems to be having too much fun with Kamala, so he leaves him to it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rita shows up a little over two hours later, looking thoroughly overwhelmed with tear tracks on her face. “She’s perfect. Maia’s okay. She’s- Perfect, just perfect.” She goes to hug Steve for a long minute, before taking a deep breath and heading back towards the doorway. “I’m gonna take you guys back there soon, it’ll just be a bit.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Rita. We’ll be here,” Steve gives her a piece of his cookie, which she shoves into her mouth before leaving. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s another half hour until they’re taken back to Maia’s private room, the woman marginally cleaned up and the baby swaddled against her chest. Maia bursts into tears at the sight of them, gasping out, “I’m sorry, everything’s making me cry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kamala rubs her back in an effort to calm her down, and gets to hold the baby first. “Hi, there. Oh, you look just like your mom.” Maia watches on fondly, looking tired but content, with her child in her godmother’s arms. She’d told Kamala and Steve that they were going to be godparents at dinner when her best friend first came into town, and both of them had burst into tears, though neither were surprised by the choice. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You wanna tell them her name?” Rita asks, untangling her daughter’s dark hair and pulling it up into a comfortable ponytail. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maia brushes a finger against the baby’s plump cheek, tearing up again as she says, “This is Rhea Rachel Ashe.” The room audibly melts, coos of delight filling the air. Steve gets his turn to hold Rhea soon after, careful with his movements and a look of awe firmly in place. “That’s your Uncle Steve, baby.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi, Rhea.” Steve gingerly lifts up her hand, fiddling with her little fingers. “Oh, what’s got you cryin’ huh? Come on, I’m not that scary.” He pretends to tickle Rhea and boops her on the cheek a couple times. “Look, here, it’s your Uncle Bucky.” Rhea’s eyes follow Bucky’s hand when he gives her a small wave, the dark brown orbs identical to her mother’s. “Yeah, I know, he looks much better than me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He rolls his eyes, because even via a baby all Steve wants to do is sweet talk Bucky. Bucky sweeps his hand through the surprisingly thick but still baby soft hair, then lets Steve hand her back over to Maia. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Steve’s off grabbing the hot chocolates and quiches left behind in the waiting room, because they got too excited and were idiots, Maia turns to him, grabbing his hand. “You are, you know.” Bucky tilts his head in question. “Uncle Bucky. That’s what she’ll grow up knowing.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Coming from Maia, it hits him harder than it has before. He’s not just found himself in this loyal little family that’s welcomed a new baby into their ranks, but gained a sister too, both a blessing and a curse if you asked him - the best kind there is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Word about Rhea spreads quickly through the Roshars, flower arrangements, balloons, stuffed animals, and gift baskets quickly filling up Maia’s room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He and Steve end up with the task of lugging it all back to Rita’s house, including the promised <em>series</em> of gift baskets and care packages from Shuri and - according to the card - King T’Challa himself. Their offerings are no doubt the cream of the crop, all kinds of stuffed animals and baby clothes, cloth napkins, blankets, and few other essential appliances. If Maia hadn’t already had a fruitful baby shower, the Wakanda royal family would’ve easily had that handled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky’s putting away some of the greeting cards when one catches Steve’s eye, a bright blue card with a simple <em>congratulations</em> scrawled across the page and signed by an unfamiliar name. Inside the flap is weirdly a crisp hundred dollar bill. “What is it?” Bucky doesn’t know what to make of Steve’s expression.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve takes the card and holds onto it for a while, giving it a thorough once over. “It’s from Chicago.” There’s no way to know that with the envelope thrown out, but Steve must recognize either the name or the gesture. He sets it aside on an end table, with a decisive, “I’ll make sure Rita gets it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucky makes a mental note to remind Steve to do exactly that. Maia gets back from the hospital with Rhea the next morning, so they head home after spending a couple hours sorting through everything those two accumulated between a few hundred Roshars. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve goes to bed early, looking emotionally exhausted, and Bucky’s not far behind. “That was a lot,” Steve whispers, snuggled under the covers after a long, hot shower. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.” Bucky scratches lightly at the back of Steve’s head, pulling faint content purrs out of the man. “That was,” he breathes out reverently, “incredible.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, we’re both July babies,” Steve mumbles, eyes already at half-mast. Bucky laughs, and they trade sleepy kisses, soon running out of energy. Bucky tries his best to keep his eyes open and watch Steve fall asleep, because Steve with his guard down is the softest and most peaceful looking thing he’s ever seen, but soon succumbs to fatigue, barely catching the low rumble of, “Night, Buck.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Feel free to tell me what you think, would love to know.</p>
<p>
  <b>The next installment is completely written as well, so go read <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27891859"><em>We Walking on a Line</em></a> if you’d like!</b>
</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://iamthe-wo-manwhocan.tumblr.com"> never linked my tumblr so here it is come scream at me </a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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